Once the staff had moved everything upstairs, Stella immediately closed the door.
Within a quarter of an hour, the extremely efficient crew had cleared up the old room and moved
everything to the new room upstairs.
The Ford Mansion was so massive that it contained hundreds of rooms. Because of Weston‘s
obsession with cleanliness, he would never stay in a room that had been used before.
Luckily, very few had ever been to the upper floors of the Ford Mansion. The suites there were also
brighter and more spacious than the ones below.
The potted plants were arranged on the balcony of the new room just as they were previously. Stella
walked over to the oleander plant, kneeled down, and carefully observed it.
Some promising flower buds had already shown themselves. After tonight, they would all be in full
bloom.
With that in mind, she plucked one, careful not to touch the moist sap on it, and calculated how many
she would need to have enough poison to kill an adult.
How many she would need to kill a man.
Although the room was resplendent with light, the spot Stella kneeled at seemed to be blanketed in
darkness.
She knelt there quietly, darkness slowly eroding her petite figure.
From the outside, nothing about her seemed out of sorts. It was as if she had already accepted the
situation she found herself in.
But no one knew how much misery she had been concealing inside.
Dr. Quirk was right. Her psychological problems had worsened to a point where she could not control
herself, to a point only revenge that would lead to death could give her peace of mind. She closed her
eyes, recalling the words Weston uttered just moments ago.
That overbearing, controlling man
He wouldn‘t even let these plants off the hook. He would punish her even for this.
He would ruin her whole life.
He would stamp out all the hope she had left.
None of the commotion that happened affected Warren Ford.
Soon, it was time for dinner. Weston went upstairs to fetch Stella himself, perhaps because he was
concerned.
Stella ended up not getting much rest. When Weston entered the room, he found Stella reading a script
on the sofa. He frowned as he walked up to her. “Are you still planning to be an actress?” Stella put the
script aside, leaned her face against his waist, and shook her head. “I was only reading it to pass the
time.”
She raised her head and looked up into his eyes. They were inky black, like the surface of the turbulent
sea where a storm was brewing. No one could ever guess the emotions he was hiding behind those
eyes.
“Didn‘t you want me to spend less time with those pots?” she asked softly. “That‘s why I decided to do
something else... to spread out my energy on different things...”
Weston‘s initially wanted her to spend her time on him, not for her to do other things. But still, since she
was so obedient, he was willing to overlook such a trivial mistake. In fact, he even felt satisfied because
she actually listened to him and tried something he wanted her to do.
“If you had that much energy to spread out, I don‘t mind helping you expand it.”
He spoke in a meaningful tone, clearly trying to imply something specific.
Knowing exactly what he meant, Stella grasped his clothes tightly.
Weston noticed how her body stiffened up, and he
chuckled. He patted her head and told her, “Don‘t worry. I won‘t do it right now. I‘m not that foolish, you
know.”
Stella relaxed a little once she heard that.
“Let‘s go downstairs,” she said. “If we‘re late, we‘ll keep Grandpa waiting.”
...
Stella walked down the stairs to the grand hall. When they got there, many had not arrived yet. They
had come early to take their seats in advance.
Wealthy and prestigious families like the Fords paid great attention to etiquette. When the time came
for dinner to start, Warren Ford would make sure he was the last to arrive, fashionably late.
62fb1bb41dcb31934bd49bda